Streptococcus
“I thought only kids got that” - my dad.
From the way I’ve been acting about contracting strep throat on Friday, you would’ve thought something actually serious happened.
Streptococcus A or B (I haven’t bothered to look at the test) came on strong and fast in the dead of night from Thursday into Friday. I woke up at 4 am with lymph nodes the size of golf balls, a throbbing headache, and that disgusting bone pain you get when you’re sick. I knew I was toast.
Since I had attended some drinks after work and a birthday dinner the night before, I was afraid my coworkers would think I was just playing hooky on the first Summer Friday of the year. Don’t get me wrong here—I did not go to work on Thursday thinking I was sick, exposing everyone and then going on to expose my friends that night. I was a little tired on Thursday, but when am I not.
I was not galavanting around Dimes Square day drinking or shopping, and I was not on a beach in Connecticut. I was hobbling to the City MD 100 feet away from my apartment, begging the kind pharmacists in the basement of Duane Reade to rush order my amoxicillin, gargling salt water on the hour, and binge watching Southern Charm Seasons 2-3 in the pitch black of my apartment, sporting a hangover hat and a heating pad, and having my first Gatorade in like, 5 years.
I bought enough popsicles from Wegman’s to support an elementary school field day, enough soup to keep warm throughout winter, and enough Gatorade to hydrate the Oklahoma City Thunder for a virus that only lasts 24 hours. If you can’t tell, I hate being sick. I know everyone hates being sick, but I start to really panic. My texts to my friends from yesterday are extremely embarrassing in hindsight. Living alone only amplified my theatrics, because I swiftly turned from just in pain and alone to sad, in pain, and alone. I was convinced something was actually wrong, that I needed to be rushed to the ER. Those who told me just Tylenol would do, you were right, Doc! From now on, anyone who comes over will be offered a piece of toast, a cup of bone broth, or a black cherry popsicle because I need to get rid of this stuff.
I’m a strep veteran. I’ve had it probably more than ten times in the course of my life. I got it at least once a year as a child, but I never remember it being this bad. I was seriously ill, immobile, and unable to speak without it feeling like knives were being shoved down my throat. It’s also a little embarrassing to get strep at (almost) 25, because it’s like, ew? I’m not sure who did this to me, and I don’t want to know. The silver lining is, once you get the meds, it’s basically over.
After crawling into bed at the ripe hour of 7:30, the sweet voices of Trixie and Katya put me into a sleep that consisted of multiple really weird fever dreams, me sweating through my pajamas, and waking up at the crack of dawn to zero pain. I felt brand new. Amoxicillin is a miracle drug.
Once I was feeling better on Saturday, I couldn’t stand to be confined in the walls of my apartment anymore. I walked to Abraço for my favorite coffee in the city, then ventured down to Chinatown for an hour-long reflexology session, and then stopped by Cafe Forgot just to feel something. I wish I could forget (ha) about my experience trying on the Olga Basha and then Raimundo Langlois jeans. Nothing against Olga or Raimundo, they’re gorgeous and look gorgeous on the right people. Right people, I am not. The sales associate agreed. I left with the Cafe Forgot ballet socks that Addison Rae wore because my ego was bruised, and I didn’t want to leave without something.
The live action Lilo & Stitch is a masterclass in body comedy. I saw it on Saturday night at the Alamo Drafthouse, which is just such a treat every time. The little baby that played Lilo was incredible. We laughed, we cried. I couldn’t believe how unrealistic some things were, like Lilo surviving a plane crash into the ocean, or people believing that Stitch is a dog, but the movie is about a little blue alien so I suppose it’s not meant to be realistic. If you ever find yourself at the Drafthouse, don’t skip the chicken tenders.
I wore a little bit of a ridiculous outfit to the movies because I had soaked through two pairs of freshly washed pants in the rain on Saturday, and I didn’t want to take that risk again. I paired my Cou Cou shorts with my Hunter Rainboots, my Cleo Tee, and a vintage Max Mara raincoat that I found in Paris last year. Very flasher-chic, which probably isn’t a very good joke to make considering I was going to see a Disney movie.
Guys, what are we doing about our hair this summer? I had to wash it every night this weekend from profusely sweating in the humidity, and before I washed it, I looked like I got electrocuted. Are we just frizzing out? Any products I should be using? This is a cry for help.
I love to walk home through Chinatown and Dimes Square on a weekend evening when I’m sober and not going out. Despite being a little fearful of my life and momentarily regretting getting my steps during the dark through that weird area under the Brooklyn Bridge leaving FiDi, my worries soon passed once I reached the rotunda that Bar Oliver overlooks. I felt like an anthropologist watching bar after bar of people, passing by Kiki’s, Forgetmenot, Le Dive, Clandestino, you know the rest. It’s fun to be on the outside every once in a while. I understand that this is not unique, and that maybe if I lived in the West Village or another area that was populous in going out I would experience the same thing. But as I’m sure many of you who read this know, the radius from Oliver Street to East Broadway, up Essex Street, and everywhere in between, has a pretty specific crowd.
In the summer it’s particularly fun to walk through because there are people sitting anywhere and everywhere, somehow holding martini glasses on curbs, smoking cigarettes pretending like this is Paris or something. While I love to look, I have to be careful in making eye contact, in case I run into an enemy or a former lover or both.
My movie itch was not scratched when I got home because after seeing the latest Heaven campaign with Gabriette and Iris Law, I wanted to watch Thirteen. I rented it on Amazon Prime and watched it on my projector until 1 am. What a movie. I cannot believe Nikki Reed wrote that when she was twelve. TWELVE? Are you kidding? I need to research more about that process. And then her performance alongside Evan Rachel Wood was just incredible. Both were incredible. I want to show my parents this movie because I was a really well behaved teenager, and things clearly could’ve been a lot worse. But there were also a lot of parts I wouldn’t want to watch with my parents, and I guess now that I’m almost 25, it doesn’t matter.
To round out my weekend, I took myself on a date to Cocoron in the Lower East Side/Nolita/Chinatown no-mans-land that is Delancey and Chrystie. What took me so long? This place was incredible. I got a matcha beer which was surprisingly delicious, and their famous dipping soba noodles with a spicy sesame broth. I ended up with slurp stains all over my Brandy Melville sweatpants, but it was more than worth it. If we’re friends, we’re getting dinner there together soon.
I realize I haven’t plugged my Beli account in a while on here. I talk a lot about food and go to a lot of restaurants, so if you want to follow me on Beli, tap here (or search oliviahawkins).
This week was a really sad shopping week for me. I spent so much money it’s truly shameful. I even set budgets for the month on my Chase App on Monday, which were completely disregarded. In my defense, I stand no chance against a Cou Cou Intimates pop-up just a stones throw from my office during a stressful week at work. I came out victorious with their Red Slip Dress, this linen top, and some thongs. The website which employs me from the hours of 9-5:30 Monday-Friday was also having a sale, which I completely lost myself on. Saint Laurent sunglasses are involved. A North Face puffer is involved. I basically blacked out. I will post pictures of these items here when I get them.
I am hereby on a shopping lockdown until I go to Mexico City in two weeks. I know that sounds silly, but I’m very serious. And once I’m there, the Peso will work in my favor, thank god. I want some premium leather goods, jewelry, and Massimo Dutti. I also want to avoid getting the norovirus, especially after my experience this past weekend. I guess the timing for strep couldn’t have been better? Glass half full, glass half full. I must now leave you all to watch Love Island USA. Let’s discuss that next week.